An Evening of Smoke
by Alexandria de Loraine
Summary: Just a one-shot bit of Hermione x Remus sexiness. Enjoy!
1. An Evening of Smoke

-

He was in the kitchen.

She leaned back against the wall and breathed out, a long, tired sigh. She knew he was aware of her presence, but they'd managed not to run into each other directly the last several weeks. If there were other insomniacs in the house, they didn't make it known.

She looked at his reflection in the hall mirror, through the open kitchen door. He was perched at the edge of the kitchen fire, legs folded and smoking. When he exhaled, it was up the chimney, and she watched the graceful movements of his hands as he lit the bowl, puffed for several long moments, and then held his breath, thumb over the bowl.

"It would help calm your nerves," he called softly, and she smiled, looking down from the mirror at the dusty floor. It felt like there were stones in her stomach.

_Still… _she thought, and it was the last night anyway. With a decisive resettling of her mind, she turned around the doorframe and leaned there, looking in at him.

He turned, and looked her in the eye; held out the pipe in offering.

"Better than chocolat?" she asked with a raised brow, and he laughed softly as she stepped through the kitchen.

"Much," he agreed softly, and she took the pipe, the smoothness of her hand against his calloused, weathered skin registered with the presence in his soul. He breathed deep, and the scent of her permeated his nostrils.

Without a tremble in her hand, she raised the pipe to her lips and lit the bowl with the tip of her wand, inhaling long and deep. He'd only just lifted the pipe from her hands when she coughed out a cloud of smoke, clutching her chest and coughing violently.

"You're supposed to go slowly at first," he admonished lightly and summoned a glass of water. She held it for several moments until she could gulp down a sip between spasms of coughing. "Drink until your voice comes back."

She watched him from teary eyes, a small cough escaping every several seconds, as he lit the bowl and drew in deep and even. He tamped the bowl with his thumb and held his breath. "Why don't you cough?" she croaked, drinking deeply from her glass again.

Smoke came from his nostrils and mouth in a great, dragon-worthy plume as he laughed, deep and throaty. "I've been smoking since before you were born."

She looked at him a long time, studying the way he leaned his shoulder against the stone edge of the fireplace, the subtle light in his eyes when he brushed his hair off his forehead. "Can I try once more?"

He held out the pipe, "I have more than enough, be my guest."

She inhaled more slowly this time, breathing through the corner of her mouth at the same time, and only coughed a little before the water cooled her throat again.

"How do you know when it's working?" she asked, and was rewarded with a flash of teeth from him as he dropped his head and grinned, hiding his eyes with his hair.

"Hermione…" he looked at her, drew another hit, and then knocked the ash out of the bowl. By the time he exhaled, he'd reloaded the bowl and held it out to her. "It's unlike anything else."

The smoke tasted distinctly sweet, and the flavor was pungent in her mouth. "Oh god," she groaned out, closing her eyes as the scent permeated her nasal cavity. "That smells good," she breathed in through her nose as she handed the pipe back to him, and he watched her from one eye as he hit again.

"Care for a history lesson?" he murmured, and she opened her eyes to look at him. She almost paid heed to the growing fire in his amber eyes, but then her mind chastised her. _It's Professor Lupin, _and her mind clamped onto the concept of knowledge.

"Always," she answered at once, but something told her that she'd paused several moments before answering. Her head felt light and a strange sense of well-being was growing in her stomach.

"This is Dragonsbalm," he said, passing her the pipe again, and his fingertips brushed over the skin of her knuckles. "Do you know why it's called that?"

Lips parted slightly for the pipe, she shook her head in the negative. "For thousands of years, it's been grown throughout the world," he began, and she inhaled listening to his gentle tenor. "It is the only sure-fire way of calming dragons when they get riled up. For hundreds of years, when the dragons grew irritated and violent, huge bales of it would be set before their caves in offering. Smoke would rise from the caves for days, and the dragons were thus calmed."

"Naturally," he continued softly, "we do not need bales, a small pinch is potent enough for us, but it opens the path to tranquility more fully than anything else."

She felt an itchy fire growing in her belly, and she exhaled up the chimney. "Is that all it does?" her eyes were glued to his mouth as he inhaled again, and he looked at her as he held his breath, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"When I exhale," his voice was short, so he didn't lose the smoke, "inhale."

She hadn't time to fully comprehend what was happening before he set the pipe aside, leaned forward, grasped her gently by the back of the neck, and pulled her mouth to his in a gentle kiss. She inhaled instinctively, and smoke pooled up between their faces. His thumb brushed the base of her skull, and she trembled against him, raising her hands to his shoulders and holding herself closer to him. The smoke rose up between them, lost to the air as they kissed.

"Pro–" he kissed her silent.

"Remus," he growled softly in her ear. "Use my name."

She leaned forward and kissed him again. "Remus," she whispered huskily, and he kissed her on the mouth again, then pulled away and leaned back against the stones, eyes closed. His blood sang in his veins and his heart beat a quick tempo in his chest.

"In some," he opened one eye and looked at her face; reddened cheeks, light eyes, and soft lips parted in stunned silence. "It heightens sexuality. Lowers…" he looked over her then, clad in pajama pants, an oversized t-shirt, and soft pink sweater, "inhibitions."

She didn't look away from his face as she reached over, lifted the pipe from the stones, and brought it to her mouth. "So I've heard," she murmured, and his eyes darkened as she lit the bowl again.

"Hermione…" he said, breathing her scent and biting his tongue. There was a tone of invitation-laced admonishment to his voice.

"Remus," she acknowledged, leaning forward on her knees. She felt emboldened, and leaned forward, her hand moving to his shoulder and then neck.

She paused inches from his face, hovering above him, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. Then he lunged forward, catching her around the waist and pulling her fully across his lap, sealing her mouth against his. His hand moved down her back to the flannel of her pajama pants, and he pressed her down by the hips against him.

"Are you," she ran her hands up his face over his stubbled jaw, raising his mouth to hers, "afflicted by this side-effect?"

He growled somewhere in his chest and stood with her straddling his hips. His hand moved up her knees to her thighs to grasp her by the bum and press her back against the tabletop, following her so closely their bodies never stopped touching.

"Very," he nipped the lobe of her ear, and she inhaled sharply, eyes falling closed as he ran his other hand up the inside of her thigh. His fingers twisted in the elastic of her pajama pants.

Before his body overran his mind and he pulled her from her clothing, though, Remus pulled back and drew her into a sitting position, with her legs hanging over the table's edge around his waist. "You deserve a bed," he informed her shortly, and picked her up in his arms, grabbing their wands from the stone-edge and heading out the kitchen door and up the stairs. The lights went out magically, except for a single candle in the middle of the prep station, which illuminated an innocuous pipe and scattered ashes on the floor.

-

"Remus…" she trailed off in a happy, exhausted groan. He'd nestled her against the length of his body, her head resting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. She nuzzled his neck and a satisfied smile crept across his mouth as he kissed the crown of her head.

"Rest a little while," he advised softly, "I'm going to shag you rotten at least twice more before dawn." She groaned softly, and opened her eyes.

"I'll die," she sighed, staring at the man against her from heavily lidded eyes.

"Not a bad way to go," he said smartly, and she mustered the will to jab him in the side, tangling her leg between his and sprawling halfway across his chest.

She propped her head tiredly on her hands and stared down into his face. "Would it be wanton of me to admit I've wanted this since third year?"

He closed his eyes and a smug air fell over him. "Oh stop it," she admonished, "you're gloating."

He opened one eye and looked at her as his hand slipped down her shoulder to feather-touch its way down her side and then pause against her hip. "Absolutely," he assured her, and rolled her under him in a fluid movement. His knee parted her legs and he settled between them, teasing her with feather-light touches and numerous kisses.

"I knew," he growled softly, and she moaned beneath him as his hips slid forward and the ache inside was momentarily assuaged. "You studied me," he continued, drawing back and thrusting forward once more, "you called to Moony in the forest."

Her head fell back and she keened softly as his mouth attacked her exposed throat. "You remember," she gasped softly, and then, "was it reciprocal?"

He laughed against her shoulder and upped the tempo of his thrusts. His thumb brushed over her cheek, his lips claimed hers in another kiss. "Merlin help me, yes."

-

Feedback is golden. I might add a bit more to this if the mood strikes me, but for now it stands as a nice little piece of Remus/Hermione sexiness.


	2. The Next Morning

Just a short, one-shot follow up to the night.

They slipped into the shower just before dawn, and her laughter was muffled by his mouth and tongue. Strange, that now of all times, she should laugh. Her body ached and arched beneath his hands and the water pouring over them in steaming torrents. He cradled her and loosed the tension from her shoulders.

"That they only knew," she murmured against his collarbone, moving her lips to kiss the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

His chuckle was deep in his chest as he wound his fingers through her sopping hair. He kissed her eyelids and then her temple. "Perhaps," and his thoughts drifted to the one who was no longer with him. _Ah, _he thought, _today I become the last, truly the last._

Her hands cupped his face gently and she leaned in to him, kissing him with a sweet tenderness.

"If we both should live–" he kissed her lips silent.

"Sh," he leaned his forehead against hers. "A conversation for later." She smiled, a soft curve of her mouth, and closed her eyes against the weight of her body's desire to sleep.

They washed each other amidst kisses and caresses, under water that nearly scalded. By the time they turned off the water, Remus had soothed every ache from her body. As he towel-dried his hair before the mirror, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his back, kissing the space between his shoulder blades.

"Breakfast?" he inquired, looping an arm over her shoulders and drawing her around against his side. His hair was curling at the tips as it dried, and she mussed it playfully.

"Clothing first, I think," she answered, "and a pepper-up potion." He laughed and smiled roguishly at her.

"Not whyever would you need that?" he leered playfully and she leaned against the sink.

"Shagging a werewolf rotten has its costs," she slid onto the countertop and wrapped her legs around his waist, running her hands down his shoulders to his wrists. He'd wrapped a towel around his waist, and her eyes worked over the latticework of scars on his torso.

A door opened down the hall, and shut so softly that only Remus registered the sound. He bent his head to whisper in the shell of her ear, "someone is awake."

Hermione closed her eyes and dropped her head, but she was grinning behind the veil of her damp hair. "How do you propose we get out of here?" she murmured, looking up at him with a gleam in her eye.S

"Disillusionment?" he suggested with a quirked brow.

"No wands," she sighed softly, and he only grinned at her in a way that suggested her knew something she did not, and it amused him endlessly.

"What makes you think I need a wand?" her eyes widened a fraction, but then a broad grin split her face and she pulled him down to kiss him soundly on the mouth.

"How much wandless magic can you do?" she whispered.

"Enough." He smirked, reminiscent of Sirius then, and a few moments later, tapped her on the head and she felt the coolness of the disillusionment charm wash over her, head to toe. He opened the bathroom door and poked his head into the hallway, looking right and left. The coast was clear, and he escorted Hermione quickly down the hallway.

"Remus?" It was Tonks, as he opened his door. Hermione brushed past him quickly, ducking into his room, and he turned to address the bubble-gum haired woman.

"Tonks," he acknowledged, leaning against his doorframe, "good morning. Why're you up so early?"

She chewed her lower lip, "couldn't sleep." She was meandering down the hall towards Remus. He gave an appreciative smile.

"I know how that goes." He sighed softly, "believe me."

"I do," she said. He did not overlook her proximity, growing closer and closer. Her eyes wandered down his frame, lean and naked from the waist up. "Remus…"

"No Tonks," he looked down and sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm flattered, but no."

Her lower lip trembled, her eyes darted away. "Why not? I… you… I mean, we might… we might all die."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know," he finally said, "but I truly can't, Tonks. I'm sorry."

She nodded, then turned sharply and hurried down the hallway. He sighed as her hair disappeared around the corner, then turned to his room and entered, shutting the door with a click behind himself.

"Everything okay?" Hermione asked. She was folded up on the edge of his bed, feet tucked under her, hands in her lap, fingers twisting together. He caught her hands in his and brought her fingers to his lips.

"Yes," his eyes gleamed and he kissed her knuckles.

"Okay," she murmured, looking up at him. His eyes swirled and swallowed her in their depths. Then he grinned and released her, went to the wardrobe and pulled out trousers, a linen shirt, and robes. She watched him hunt about for a pair of clean, matching socks (it amused her that he insisted his socks match, even now, so close to the end), then his shoes, and finally he pulled his trousers on.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she looked up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"French toast. With heaps of butter, and a river of syrup… snow caps of powdered sugar, and raspberries." With a decisive nod, she gathered her clothing and preformed a few quick spells, rendering it clean.

"I've always preferred machine wash," he remarked idly as she zipped her pants and donned a bra. It wasn't embarrassing, to be nude before his eyes. He looked upon her with due appreciation for her physical beauty, but also with the respect of a kindred human being and intellectual thinker.

"Same," she answered, "but it'll do."

She moved toward the door, pulling her jumper over her head. "Hermione…" she pivoted to look at him.

"Hm?" her hands were busy fussing with her hair, bullying it into a pony-tail. The elastic snapped, and she cursed, pulling another from her pocket.

He stepped forward in one fluid motion, pressing her back against the wall. His hands cupped her face, his body pressed against hers, and his mouth descended upon her lips with a hungry passion. She responded with fervor, and just as her fingers moved up to his hair, he pulled back, leaving her breathless.

"Reckon I might not get to do that again," he chuckled, and she nodded. He poked his head out the door, checked to see if the coast was clear, and then gestured for her to precede him.

In the kitchen, Remus retrieved his pipe from the floor, shaking out the remaining ash in the bowl. He cast Hermione a secretive grin and slid it into the pocket of his robe.

"Do you reckon the others are waking?"

"Probably." He was gathering ingredients, "how many do you wager actually slept?"

She grinned, sitting on a barstool at the prep table. "Well… Harry and Ginny went off together, and Luna did look a little…"

"Antsy?" Remus supplied with a grin, and Hermione shook her head in amusement.

"Yes, that there. Percy was with Penelope…" She thought for a while longer. "We know where Bill and Fleur were, so that leaves…"

"Three Weasley boys, a metamorphous, the Weasley patriarch et matriarch, and Moody," Remus finished, and Hermione eyed him from one eye.

"Pepper-up potion?" she queried. He nodded, and opened a cabinet over his head, pulling down a rack of phials. Each was neatly labeled. He passed her one, and she uncorked it, sniffed, and drank with a grimace. "Aren't you going to take one?"

He smirked softly, dropped his head a little so his bangs fell across his eyes. "Hermione," her name sounded incredibly erotic to her ears, rolling on his tongue in that delightfully husky tenor. "Doesn't the brightest witch of her age know the basics about werewolves?"

She stared at him openly, mouth open slightly. "Yes," she swallowed, "but… come on! There's no way that didn't wear you out even a little."

He was openly grinning then, leaning back against the counter to stare at her. His eyes roved over her face; her eyes, nose, cheeks, lips. "Alright, I concede. I am feeling… vaguely faint."

"Vaguely faint?" she had a dazed expression on her face, and he laughed. "I don't know what it would take to tire you out if that didn't do it."

He laughed again. "Sure you would," he asserted.

Hermione blushed, grinned, and bit her lip. "Well… maybe."

"Perhaps you'll know," he conceded, turning his back to her and cracking five eggs into a bowl, "one day." She only watched him, head resting on her arms as the potion worked its way into her body, a smile on her lips as he moved methodically about the kitchen.

"I hope so, Remus," she finally murmured, and he didn't respond, but the grin at the corner of his mouth told her he'd heard. "I hope so."

Fin.


End file.
